


War of the Manatees

by Sock_Lobster



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Interspecies or Bestiality? You decide., Kidnapping, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Pines Family Bonding, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sock_Lobster/pseuds/Sock_Lobster
Summary: Talking about feelings can be hard, whether you're an old man in love with your twin, a young boy not speaking up for what you want, or the Queen of the Manatees.The problem with the last one is the whole "might start a war" business. Stan just wanted a nice break with the kids.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Is it crack if it's in the same vein as the show?
> 
>  _Not_ actually written for the prompt about Mermando on the kink meme, but I hope that someone enjoys this all the same.
> 
> Fic is outlined and partially written. Chapters will be posted as I finish them. This won't get very dark.

The _Stan o’ War II_ creaks constantly. After thirty years in the creaky Mystery Shack, that’s comforting, but sometimes it’s too loud for even Stan. Usually in the early morning. Stan rolls over in his cramped bunk and blinks blearily at Ford’s empty one. He sits up with an aching everything, pulls his dentures out of their covered container, and shuffles up the tiny stairs to the cabin above in slippers and a bathrobe.

“Mornin’,’ he says to Ford where he’s hunched over the tiny table, doing something on a sea chart. Ford looks up and nods.

The coffee pot hasn’t been started, so Stan gets on that. He sits across from Ford while the tiny machine does its job and stares at the top of Ford’s head for lack anything better to do.

“What time do you want to leave?” Ford asks absently. “The plane lands a little after four.”

“I dunno,” Stan says. “What time do we catch a bus from here to get there a little after four?”

“Three-twenty,” Ford says. He’s already planned out the bus trip, so Stan’s not sure why he bothered asking Stan. Probably some stupid idea that it makes Stan feel appreciated or something. Stan doesn’t need to feel like he has input about Florida bus schedules, though.

“Then I guess we’ll leave at three-twenty,” Stan says, rolling his eyes though Ford’s not looking.

“We can also take the train instead,” Ford says. “We’d leave earlier, but it’s a rail instead of a bus.”

“This illusion of choice thing you’re trying to give me is too much for seven in the morning,” Stan says.

“You do have a choice,” Ford says. “Train or bus.”

“This is like asking me if I want to get punched in the arm or the leg. I have a choice but neither is pleasant, so why bother?”

Ford sets his pen down. “Why are you in a mood this morning?”

“Who says I’m in a mood?”

“Everything about your tone and body language.”

“I’m not a morning person. Sue me,” Stan says. He stands up to get himself some coffee, and then because the other mug is right there anyway, he goes ahead and pours some for Ford.

He sets both on the table. Ford takes his and says, “Are you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous about public transport?”

Ford stares flatly at him. Stan stares back. Eventually, Stan’s the one who breaks.

“It’s been almost four months. What if they’re too cool for me now?”

“Oh Stanley,” Ford says.

“They’re teenagers now! It could happen.”

“Since when are teenagers cool?” Ford asks. “It was their idea to visit us for their winter break.”

“Only because the alternative was having to pick sides with their parents,” Stan says.

"I'm sure they'll think exactly the same of you as when you last saw them," Ford says. "Which is that you're a weird-smelling old man and their hero."

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better," Stan says.

Ford shrugs. "You know this already. Drink your coffee and clean if you're so worried." He picks his pen back up and continues charting something. It had better not be anything dangerous to do while the kids are here.

"Fine," Stan says. He sits and drinks his damn coffee and looks around. The boat's already been cleaned up. All Stan could really do is scrub it down, and he's not feeling that.

Because looking at the boat gets boring, he goes back to looking at Ford. That somehow never gets boring, but that just makes it more pathetic.

"You wanna go find breakfast somewhere?" Stan asks.

Ford looks back up and smiles at him. He even reaches up and squeezes Stan’s shoulder affectionately. "Sure, Stanley."

 

There’s a Fenny’s a short walk from the marina. The waitress flirts with Ford the whole time, but it’s not like Ford notices. Stan notices. He tries not to hold it against her. Waitresses gotta inspire tips however they can.

“We agree there’s not going to be anything weird and deadly this trip, right?” Stan asks while they wait for pancakes.

“Well, it’s Florida, Stanley,” Ford says. “But if you mean cryptids and dimensional anomalies, I haven’t picked up anything nearby. It should be as safe as Florida can be.”

“Good,” Stan says. He leans back in the booth seat and looks out the window. The parking lot is weirdly full of red cars, he notices. It’s not anything worth noticing. He’s just got nothing else he wants to think about. “We, uh, we haven’t talked about the other night.”

“I thought we’d agreed not to.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“I thought it was implicit.”

Stan sighs. “Okay, whatever.”

Ford sighs now. Neither of them talks until the waitress brings out the food, and then it’s only for Ford to thank her. She giggles and actually bumps his shoulder with her hip as she walks away. _That_ Ford notices.

“Oh,” he says, going a little pink in the cheeks.

Stan stabs his stack of pancakes and eats a massive mouthful of them.

 

The leg of the train trip that takes them to airport is full of tired looking families with luggage. Stan and Ford sit side by side, not talking about much. Ford’s letting his shoulder push against Stan’s when the train shakes, though.

“They’ll be happy to see you, Stanley,” he says before they get off.

“Sure, whatever,” Stan says.

They walk to arrivals and get there in time for a wave of tired travelers to come down from their gates. Stan and Ford find a place against a wall and stand there.

Stan almost cries when the kids appear on the escalator from the arrivals, but that’s okay. He definitely cries when both the kids tackle him and send him backwards onto the floor. That’s more about getting smashed into the tile, though, he swears.

“Grunkle Stan!” the kids both shout in an excited echo of each other. Stan has to tap out on the floor before he passes out from the chokehold. Mabel and Dipper relax with the whole strangling thing and start talking over each other so much Stan can’t make out a damn thing they’re trying to tell him.

“You won’t--” “--this kid on the plane--” “much we missed you--” “--there’s a legend about--” “--tell you everything--” “--which we should definitely--” “--the stage show--” “--because if it’s real--” “--and Dipper got _banned_ from technical theatre next semester!”

“In my defense, I didn’t realize his fake monocle was a magnifying glass lens, and the doctor said his eye will be okay eventually,” Dipper says. “Also, the guys in the AV club loved it.”

“Dipper has new AV Club buddies and it’s weird and cute,” Mabel says.

“Mostly because they think the videos I took while in Gravity Falls over the summer are fake, and I must be good with special effects. We’ve been having some great terrible movie nights, though.”

“Sounds riveting,” Stan says. He waves a hand around, and Ford grabs him by the wrist and helps him up. The kids tumble off him, and Stan finally gets a good look at them. “What happened to your hair?”

“Small accident with a sewing machine,” Mabel says. Her hair’s been chopped badly to about her chin. She’s unbothered by it, apparently.

“And I see your brother’s hit the skin disaster stage of puberty,” Stan says. Dipper glares at him. Stan adds, “Look kid, I’ve been there. You grow out of it.”

“He’s like a gross yet lovable Rudolph,” Mabel says, and yeah, there is a pretty big red zit on Dipper’s nose. “Won’t wear the antlers, though.”

“The light up menorah sweaters were bad enough, Mabel. I still have burn marks,” Dipper says, even as Mabel steps over him to give Ford a hug as well. It’s less enthusiastic than the one she gave Stan by a wide margin.

“Hi, Great Uncle Ford,” she says cheerfully. “Has Grunkle Stan been behaving?”

“Not remotely,” Ford says. He pats Mabel awkwardly on the head, and when Dipper comes up, that same gesture and a manly, colleague-esque handshake is the extent of the greeting. It’s like Dipper and Mabel suddenly grew some dignity or something in the last minute since tackling Stan to the ground.

“Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper says.

“Dipper,” Ford says, smiling. “How go your studies?

“He’s going to a special magnet school next year!” Mabel says. She throws a proud arm around Dipper’s shoulders.

Dipper shrugs like it’s no big deal. “This one is science-focused and it feeds into a science-y high school. My biology teacher made me apply, and I got in.”

Ford’s face lights up. He smiles hugely and says, “That’s wonderful, Dipper!” This is followed by another handshake.

“I guess,” Dipper says. 

“He’s being modest about it,” Mabel says.

Dipper shrugs again, and he doesn’t look modest to Stan. He looks uncomfortable. Stan’s not gonna say that though, because that would definitely get him in trouble with at least one person here.

“Good on ya, kid,” he says instead. “Put that brain of yours to work.”

“I plan to this break,” Dipper says. “I was trying to tell you guys, this kid on the plane kept talking about this swamp monster thing I think we should check out.”

“Skunk ape,” Ford says. “I have look into it briefly before, and I’m--”

“Nope! No, and no, we already agreed that this was a vacation,” Stan says. “You guys are only here for two weeks, so we’re not chasing down anything dangerous. This is family bonding time. No non-family crazy stuff.”

“But Grunkle Stan--”

“No, and that’s final. Ford may get say over weird things but I get say over you two. Nothing dangerous.”

“What about mermaids?” Mabel asks while Dipper sulks.

“What about ‘em?”

“Well, I sorta maybe got a letter from Mermando…”

“Mer-who-do?”

“He was the merman I dated for about a day. He was stuck in the Gravity Falls public pool, I broke him out, Dipper chased me in the pool cart, and then Dipper had to save him by--”

“We agreed we wouldn’t talk about that!” Dipper says quickly. He waves his hands around like he’s batting away whatever words Mabel was gonna say. “Anyway, he’s married now, right?”

“Don’t be silly. He’s only engaged. They can’t get married until he’s sixteen, and apparently things aren’t going so well. He asked me for romantic advice to use on his fiancee--”

“The Queen of the Manatees,” Dipper says flatly.

“‘Manatees’?” Stan asks. He looks at Ford who shakes his head. “Wait, did I know any of this before the mindwipe?”

“No,” Dipper and Mabel say together.

“Just checking. Continue.”

“Anyway, he asked for advice, and I gave him some of the basics and some book recommendations,” Mabel says. “And that was a while ago, and he never wrote back. Now I’m kinda worried and since we’re here in sorta the right area...” Mabel puts on the puppy dog eyes.

“Was this the only reason you wanted to visit me-- us?” Stan asks.

“No, no. He asked for help after I told him we’d be in the area.” Mabel wraps her arms around Stan’s nearest arm and turns up the puppy dog eyes to something ridiculous. “Pleeeease? It’s just some mermaids, and you know Dipper’s not going to be happy unless we do something weird this trip.”

“I brought a new all-terrain camera along and everything,” Dipper says.

Stan looks to Ford. Ford gives him a shrug, but it’s not like Ford is a great role model for appropriate anyway, no matter what he likes to pretend. Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel both look so damn hopeful. Stan sighs.

“Okay, fine. How bad can some mermaids and manatees be?”

“Reasonably, they can’t be worse than interdimensional horrors,” Ford says, which is not as comforting as he must think it is. Stan stares at him for it, and Ford shrugs.

 

Roughly twenty-three hours later, Stan gets tossed out of the water onto bumpy, muddy ground without any kind ceremony, and then Dipper gets tossed up onto him.

"Ow," Stan coughs out. Dipper groans unhelpfully, and Stan has to knock him off.

"What the heck just happened?" Dipper says after coughing up some water into the tree roots beneath them.

"I think we've been taken hostage by manatees," Stan says to the tree branches overhead. It's not the weirdest thing he's ever said, given the last three decades of his life, but it might be one of the top five dumbest. _Manatees_?

"See, I thought that was what happened but my brain doesn't want to accept that." Dipper sits up and looks around. He's dripping mud, water, and dead leaves, and Stan feels himself in a similar state. Dipper's also missing his hat. "Where are we?"

"Do I look like I speak manatee?"

"In that you're a tubby, grey blob?"

"Watch it, kid. There's no cops in manatee prisoner of war camp," Stan says, though he doesn't actually know how true that is or isn't. He sits up and looks around, too, and finds they seem to be alone on a little island of trees. The ground is all tree roots and packed decaying leaves, and Stan thinks that's probably all there is between them and water. 

"Nice place!" Stan yells. "I've definitely seen worse prisons!"

In the water, a pair of grey nostrils pop up briefly, inhale, and then duck back down. Stan feels judged, somehow. He watches the vague grey shape float along under the surface. It’s circling the island along with another.

"Jerks," Stan says.

Dipper gets up, and he carefully picks his way around the island. It's only about as big as the den back in the Shack, so Stan leaves him to the grand exploration. For his part, Stan sits against a soggy tree and watches the manatees’ shadows in the water.

"Did you seriously kiss Mustache-mando?" Stan asks after a few circuits.

From the other side of the island, Dipper growls with all the ferocity of an angry bunny and says, "It was reverse CPR! He was reverse-drowning! It wasn't a kiss!"

"It kinda looked like a kiss in the photo." That damn photo. Mabel’s scrapbook-ortunities finally bit them all in the ass.

"I saved his life!"

"Okay, okay, not a kiss." Stan looks back out to the water and yells. "It wasn't a kiss, guys! ¡No fue un beso!"

He doesn't even get a judgmental pair of nostrils snorting at him this time.

"I don't think they want to hear it," Stan says.

"Even if it had been one, it happened in Gravity Falls! Before Mermando ever got engaged to Manatina!"

"Are we _sure_ that's her name?" Stan asks. Dipper ignores him.

"It's not like it's cheating if it happened before they met! And it wasn't a kiss anyway! Mabel's the one who kissed him!"

Stan frowns. "Was this before or after you laid one on him?"

"After, but I didn't 'lay one on him'!" Dipper does air quotes and everything. "Reverse CPR!" he shouts with a stomp, and that results in him slipping on a tree root.

Stan watches him go tumbling into the water. A half-second later, Dipper gets batted back up onto the island by a grey mass.

"Well, guess we know how they plan to keep us here," Stan says while Dipper splutters into the tree roots some more.

"It was not a kiss!" Dipper yells at the water.

A whiskery snout pops up and snorts before diving down again. It's a snort that says a lot about its maker's opinion of Dipper.

"Do manatees even kiss?" Stan asks. "This underage beastiality marriage still needs explaining. They’re not even woodpeckers."

"Says them man who married a novelty statue."

"That was annulled. Besides, it was under Ford's name, so you can't prove anything."

"I'm just saying I don't think you have any high ground here, Old Man." Dipper picks his way back over to Stan to slump against a tree opposite him. He sighs wearily. "Did you see what happened to Mabel? And Ford?"

"They were by the dinghy last I saw. It looked like Ford grabbed Mabel before things happened."

"Hope they're okay," Dipper says. He crosses his arms and puts them on his knees, then his head on his arms. “What’re we going to do?”

Stan keeps watching the water. The manatee guards have been doing a neat pace around the island, and while Stan hasn’t got a working watch on him, he’d say they’re consistent and not-randomised. Eventually, even manatees have to get tired of swimming, right?

“Look kid, Ford may be the guy you want for weird stuff, but I’m the guy you want for escape stuff. We’ll be fine,” Stan says.

Dipper looks up at him and says, “What’re you thinking, Old Man?”

“I’m not thinking anything yet,” Stan says. “But it never hurts to pay attention to what the guards are doing.” Stan considers this. Then he revises, “Well, it never hurts unless you pay so much attention to the guards you don’t pay any to your fellow inmates, and then one of them tries to shiv you. _That_ hurts.”

Dipper stares at him with an over-the-top frown says, “Grunkle Stan, have you ever considered _therapy_?”

Oh yeah, Stan can see that going swimmingly. _"Well, my name is Stan Pines because my pops was too lazy to think of anything better than my older twin’s name when I was born, my twin and I jerked each other off a few times when we were teens, I spent thirty years pretending to be that twin, and last Tuesday night I kissed that twin. I want to do it again, but we’re not talking about it by_ implicit _agreement. "Also, I’ve been to prison too many times and had a demon in my head when I got my entire life erased. Can you help me, doc?"_

“Therapists are hacks, kid. They’re just hacks with a fancy degree that lets them be hacks without anybody questioning it,” Stan says. “Help me keep track of these manatee guards.”

“Fine,” Dipper says. “I’ll just tell _Mabel_ you need someone to talk to about your lifelong traumas.”

Stan flicks a muddy leaf at Dipper’s face. “That’s low,” he says.

“I think of it as meeting my opponent on even playing field,” Dipper says, but he does shut the hell up after that and watch the manatees.


End file.
